Don't Press This SH*T

A thousand fingers stick out of the walls and ceiling. You could think before you press. But who does that? One finger gives you food, another makes it rain, a third drops a sofa on your best friend — and you'll press all three anyway, just to check. No instructions, no door. Keep your complaints to yourself.

The finger you need is always right under the ceiling — the room has a sense of humor. Build towers out of furniture and climb on each other's heads, solo or with up to four players. One reaches for the finger, two hold the tower, and the fourth has already pressed something else. We won't point fingers. His friends will pull him out anyway. Probably.

No store, no delivery — just a thousand fingers and an unshakable faith in "maybe this one." Food, water and medicine come from pressing, just like all your other problems. Hunger and fatigue wait patiently while you play around. Not for long. Sometimes lunch falls from the sky along with the rain. And hops away.

The room has rules. Nobody bothered to write them down, so you'll have to keep the journal yourselves. Compare effects and look for the finger that gets the whole team out. Even the one who's still pressing fingers. Especially him. The room suddenly turned striped? Write it down: it's not a bug, it's a clue. After escaping, you can stay in free mode. Something tells us you will.

You starved together, built towers together and held each other up on your shoulders. Time to find out, as friends, who was worst at holding. Buy weapons, grab grenades — free-for-all or two against two. Throw things around: the sofa finally gets used as intended. Ten minutes, a ranking and no hard feelings. Well, maybe one.